Tuesday, March 8, 2011


I have a Curriculum and Instruction class on Tuesdays and Thursdays that I really don't enjoy very much. My disdain for the course is largely due to a) the fact that the class is from 3:40-5PM b) the subject matter seems pointless/common sense and c) the frequent use of markers, games, and other elementary type activities often frustrates me.

The other day we had the option to get 4% extra credit on our exam if we wrote a poem. Typical Anna fashion, I scoffed at the assignment labeling it as "lame" but knew I'd do since I have a hard time passing up the chance for extra points. The assignment was pretty specific-- to do an "I am from" poem addressing sights/sounds/phrases/smells etc of where we're from. To be creative within that paradigm. 

Then I started writing...I loved it. Thinking of imagery that described the heart of who I am and what my family is. Working within specific questions to give a complete understanding of 24 years of life. It was a game I actually enjoyed.

So, I thought I'd share. A blog is kind of like the grown up version of the family fridge of proud papers, pictures and stories. Welcome to a taste of home.


I am from the Midwest, wherever my dreams or family take me.
I am from tradition and love. Monday night soup night, Friday family night,
I am from a welcoming home—full of strangers, friends, and family. The door is always open.
I am from a culture of debate and teasing, grow some thick skin to survive the dinner table.
I am from walls and halls of pictures. Friends competing for their faces to make the “wall of fame” or the coveted top of the baby grand piano.
I am from the smell of homemade oatmeal bread baking in the oven, freshly popped popcorn, and wisk laundry detergent.
I am from the constant hum of activity: the sounds of worship music blaring at all hours of the day, the Hallelujah Chorus on full blast as the standard alarm clock for holidays, and the door swinging on its hinges as people come and go.
I am from a home full of books strewn across the arms of chairs, half completed board games ready to be conquered, and an extra plate set at the dinner table in case a friend stops by.
I’m from a home with lots of chiefs and not enough indians where life is a party and food is our hobby.

1 comment:

  1. That's a precious poem, Anna. Seems pretty darn accurate =) I could just imagine myself at your family's home as I read it. Love it!